The Little Things
by Prisoner Len
Summary: It's the little things that drive Vincent crazy, but those same little things make him love Cid. Valenwind, oneshot.


Vincent Valentine had a mental cornucopia of things that pissed him off to no end—What had Cloud called them? Pet peeves?—and they all seemed to involve the foul-mouthed pilot he was sharing a home with. It was a quaint home, on the edge of Rocket Town. In fact, it was the same home Cid had shared with Shera—Shera, however, had gotten married, and now the gunner shared the home. It was peaceful. Except for when it sounded like all hell broke loose. Yes, Vincent's "pet peeves" drove him to the brink of insanity sometimes.

One of these annoyances was a messy house, and Cid was very, very good at making a mess. Whether it be dishes in the sink, clothes on the floor, or toiletries scattered across the bathroom counter, the pilot managed it all. In the morning, he'd make his tea and leave the dishes piled sloppily in the sink. Vincent would wash them all once he left for work, grinding his teeth together in irritation. After his shower, Cid would leave his dirty clothes on the floor, and his toothbrush on the sink. Vincent would put his toothbrush back in the medicine cabinet, and add his clothes to the dirty laundry. After work, Cid kicked his boots off, dropped his coat and scarf to the floor, lit a cigarette (yet another thing that bothered Vincent), and threw himself onto the living room couch.

That was how it usually started—The arguments, that is. By then, Vincent would be off the deep end, and reprimand the man—Who promptly said "I ain't give a shit, it's just clothes"—for making a mess. Cid's response, in turn, would piss the gunner off even more, and he'd raise his voice. It would go back and forth until eventually, Cid merely turned up the TV. After pinching the bridge of his slender nose to prevent the oncoming stress headache, Vincent would start cooking dinner. Another thing that pissed him off was the TV being blasted. Loud noises in general drove him up a wall ("Up's better'n through, ain't it?"), and Cid blasted the TV like no one else. He had these days where he'd "rock out" and blast the radio too, which only made the crimson eyed man more annoyed.

Dinner was a whole 'nother story. They would sit down at the small wooden table in the tidy (thanks to Vincent) little kitchen, and eat the meal quietly. Or rather, Vincent _wished_ they did. Cid would bitch and moan about his day—how his newest workers couldn't do anything right, how he hated getting up early—while drinking his tea and barely touching his food. Admittedly, this didn't bother the gunner to the extent of scolding the man (he did enjoy listening to Cid speak), but it still bothered him.

Vincent sighed, putting the clean dishes back in the cupboard. Satisfied with the cleanliness of the room, he turned the light off, and slipped into the living room, where the TV was blaring at a more sane level of volume. Cid's head was leaning back on the black couch, his mouth wide open, and quiet snores escaping his lips. Crimson eyes crinkled as a rare smile graced Vincent's pale lips. He slid onto the couch next to the man, gazing fondly at him. Sure, the pilot's habits drove him absolutely crazy, but there were things he did that just made everything worth it.

"Cid?" Vincent whispered, shaking the shoulder gently.

With a half-snort, sky blue eyes blinked open, and the blond turned his gaze to Vincent with a smile. "Fell asleep again, huh? Ain't that jus' like me."

The raven-haired man only continued to smile, allowing Cid to slide him onto his lap and nuzzle his neck. It was moments like this that made everything worth it to Vincent. The moments when the captain wasn't in a piss ass mood, and they watched relatively dumb movies while they cuddled on the couch. These moments, Vincent wouldn't trade for anything. Besides, if he didn't love the little things that bothered him, he'd never have the chance to love the little things that made his heart skip a beat, and caused a smile to grace his lips. Cid withdrew a cigarette from the pack resting on the end table, and slipped it between his lips. He lit it, and took a long drag on it, sighing, then took it out of his mouth and pressed a chaste kiss to the gunner's lips.

Moments like this, Vincent didn't mind one bit.

**I really enjoyed writing this. Sorry it's so short!**


End file.
